


i don't want no savior, baby, i just want to have a good time

by stefonzolesky



Category: Arrested Development
Genre: Gen, Pre-Series, Probably ooc, Trans Character, Trans Female Character, Trans Male Character, as in I think I made gob a little too competent, deadnaming, michael is kind of a dick, quality maeby and gob bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-05-10 09:28:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14734382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stefonzolesky/pseuds/stefonzolesky
Summary: The next day, he gifts her some of Tracey’s jewelry, out of guilt, or something. She thanks him quietly, and then seeks out Gob to thank him, too.





	i don't want no savior, baby, i just want to have a good time

**Author's Note:**

> special thanks to spencer for actually motivating me to write this love u bitch

Maeby spends most of her time in Boston looking forward to her time in California.

 

“Jared!” Her mom calls, then swearing under her breath. “Sorry, Maeby, honey. Load into the car, okay?”

“Mom, I’m already out here,” Maeby reminds her, backpack clutched tight against her chest. She spent time staring in the mirror and shoving butterfly clips in her hair. Lindsay had offered to straighten it for her, but Maeby likes the way it curls.

Tobias slides into the front seat, whistling something that Maeby might recognize, but also might just be something that he’s hummed one too many times.

“Are we there yet? Are we at the airport yet?” She bounces in place.

“We _just_ pulled out of the driveway.” Lindsay reclines her chair, sliding her sleep mask over her eyes. “It is _too early_ for this.”

The Fünke’s only visit their family in California every couple of years. The last time they visited, Maeby was twelve. She had sat in the yacht with Gob and confided in him in hushed whispers. He had cried for her, told her that he was sorry.

 

The family settles into their hotel room, but Maeby hardly settles. She kicks her legs off the bed, flip-flops squeaking.

“Can we go yet?” She chirps. “I want to see Uncle Gob.”

Lindsay sighs, glancing over her shoulder at the bathroom where Tobias is, and then kneels in front of her daughter. “Maeby, sweetie.” She smiles. “I think you should stay away from Gob while we’re there, okay? He’s probably not even there, and I don’t want you spending time with him.”

“You think he made me like this,” Maeby says flatly. She frowns. “That’s why you don’t want me hanging out with him, right? Because you think he did this to me?”

“What?” Lindsay laughs, full of disbelief. “Of course not, honey. He’s just… not the best person in the family to spend time with.”

Maeby breathes hard out her nose. “Like you’re such a great role model.” She hops off the edge of the bed. “I’ll go rent a bike and ride to the model home.”

“Maeby, you’re _twelve.”_

“I’m turning thirteen in two days,” Maeby corrects. “You leave me alone on my own enough, anyway.”

 

Maeby does exactly as she says -- rents a bike and rides to the model home. She’s sweaty when she arrives, and she rings the doorbell five times. Michael opens with, “Jesus _Christ,_ Lindsay--” and then stops when his gaze flits down to see the young girl. “Oh! Jared, sorry, I thought you were your mother.”

“It’s Maeby,” She says, pushing past her uncle. “Don’t _ever_ compare me to my mom.”

“I-- I wasn’t.” Michael frowns. “Maeby?”

“Yeah.” Maeby climbs up to a stool next to the counter. “Is Uncle Gob in?”

“He’s out at the yacht, I think.” Michael rounds the counter, leaning against it with his elbows. “Does your mom know you’re here?”

As if on cue, the doorbell rings again, but Michael doesn’t have to answer it before Lindsay storms in, soaked.

“Gob, you are _such_ an asshole,” She throws the insult up and over her shoulder, picking pieces of rubber out of her hair. “Michael, did you tell him to do this?”

“Great to see you too, Lindsay,” Michael says, sarcasm bubbling out of his mouth. “Is Gob in the attic or something?”

“He threw water balloons on me,” Lindsay explains, glancing at her daughter pointedly. “This is why I don’t want you spending time with him. He’s a bad influence on a little girl like you."

Michael stares blankly between the two of them for a second, paying no mind to Tobias tugging some terrifying contraption that he’s bound to attempt to test on Michael behind him. His gaze flits up to the second floor. “I swear, I thought he was on the yacht.”

Maeby hops off the stool.

“I’m going to see him,” She declares, half-jogging up the stairs before anyone can stop her.

 

“Uncle Gob?” Maeby says as her head pokes through the entrance to the attic. “Are you up here?”

“Maeby!” Gob grins, opening his arms up as she pulls herself into the attic, running to give him a hug. “Did you see? I got your mom _so fucking good._ ”

Maeby laughs. “Yeah, she’s soaked. I had to keep myself together down there so she didn’t yell at me.”  She practically throws herself down on the floor of the attic. “Did you see me come in?”

“I did,” Gob promises. “I wanted to say hi, but I had to hide up here so I didn’t miss Lindsay. I almost ran out of balloons, because this girl I’ve been sleeping with showed up looking for me--” He pauses. “Nevermind, you’re a kid. It doesn’t matter. How have you been?”

“Fine,” Maeby lies. Life in Boston is miserable, and she’s lonely, but she doesn’t want to let on. She tugs on a loose curl of her own hair. “Bearable. You?”

Gob’s nose scrunches up. “My dad accidentally called me a tranny on live TV while trying to explain why he didn’t want me to be part of the company. Otherwise, pretty good.”

A groan escapes Maeby’s lips.

“I’ll take out his kneecaps,” She says. “But only if you want me to.”

“I think I’ll survive,” Gob laughs. “It’s not the worst I’ve gotten, alright?” He pauses, lips pressed into a thin line. “You’re here for your birthday, right? This isn’t just some random visit?”

“Correct.” Maeby nods solemnly. “I’m gonna be thirteen in--” She holds up bunny-ears. “--two days. You’d better have gotten me something good,” She jokes good-naturedly.

“Fuck,” Gob swears, a smile pulling on his lips. “I guess I’d better go shopping, huh?”

He quickly slips out of the attic, gesturing for Maeby to follow him. She laughs, hands gripping rung after rung behind him.

He sends her a glance, his hand darting into a drawer where Maeby knows Michael keeps a company checkbook, and presses a finger to his lip. He slides the checkbook in his back pocket.

He’s almost to the door when he realizes Maeby isn’t following him and turns back. “Are you coming, or what?”

 

“Since it isn’t my money,” Gob explains on the way to the mall, “You can pick out literally anything you want, on me. I’ll wrap it up and you can act all surprised. Sound good?”

“Yes,” Maeby says, grinning wide. She loves spending time with her uncle, even though pretty much everyone else in the family disapproves. It’s like he’s the only person who understands what she’s going through even a little bit. “Thank you so much, Uncle Gob.”

Gob casts her a glance. “Anything for my favorite niece.”

 

Maeby loads up carts at the mall, pushing herself off and riding down the aisles. Gob flips through racks behind her, hanging tacky button-ups and slacks to her mix of scarves, tank-tops, bags of candy and skinny jeans.

As the lady at the register rings up their items, Gob leans over to stage-whisper, “Your mom is gonna _kill_ me.”

Maeby giggles. “She couldn’t.”

 

Maeby’s birthday comes two days later, and, as promised, Gob has wrapped up everything they bought at the mall. He does accidentally light one of her scarves on fire, but she doesn’t blame him for that. Lindsay cuts her eyes at him with each opened gift.

 

That night, Maeby is sitting against a wall playing cards with George Michael when she hears Gob and Michael talking in the next room over.

“Are you sure you should be doing this, Gob?” Michael says, voice hushed. “Jared is--”

“Maeby,” Gob corrects. “Don’t be a dickhead.”

Michael swears under his breath. “Right. Sorry. But… she’s still a kid, okay? We can’t know for sure if she’s got everything all figured out yet, so maybe you shouldn’t spoil her until we know exactly what’s going on.”

Gob laughs. “You know, that is just like you.”

Silence. Shuffling. Michael breathes hard out of his nose.

“I’m sorry?”

“You act like you’re this _saint,_ but you don’t even know.” Gob laughs again, obviously fed up, like he’s had this conversation time and time again. “She came to me for help, Michael, not you. You don’t have any experience with anything like this. You don’t know what it’s like. I have a right to spoil my niece, okay? And you don’t have the right to be such an asshole about it.”

Maeby can practically hear Michael frown.

 

The next day, he gifts her some of Tracey’s jewelry, out of guilt, or something. She thanks him quietly, and then seeks out Gob to thank him, too. She wraps her arms around him in a hug, and says, “I heard you talking to Uncle Michael yesterday. Sometimes, I think you’re the only sane person in this family.”

Gob actually laughs at that. “That’s where you’re wrong,” He says, going back to fiddling with something in the sleeve of his jacket once she lets go.

“No, really.” Maeby shakes her head. “My parents are, like, the worst. And _your_ parents are nowhere near great. Every since Aunt Tracey died, it’s like George Michael looks right through anyone. Uncle Michael likes to pretend he’s great, but really, he’s just mean. You wear everything on your shoulder.”

Gob frowns and shies away from her. For a second, Maeby is terrified that she said something to make him turn on her, but then, he says, “I guess I never really thought about it like that.”

 

Maeby knows her uncle well. Maybe not as well as Michael, but definitely better than her mom at the very least. Maybe she’s the only person who tries to understand him. It’s not that hard, and he’s certainly the only person who “gets” her.

“J… Maeby?” George Michael asks her, snapping her out of her daze. “Are you alright?”

Maeby plasters a smile on her face. “Yeah. Fine. What’s up?”

George Michael has his hands balled up around something, and his cheeks are pink. “I, uh, went through my mom’s stuff.” His voice cracks a little. “I mean, I don’t know if you want it, and if you don’t that’s okay. You don’t have to take it. I just thought--”

“George Michael,” Maeby interrupts. “You don’t have to ramble. What is it?”

George Michael, in a fit of semi-panic, thrusts his hands forward. In this movement, he accidentally propels tubes of lipstick and various other makeup in his cousin’s direction. A small brush hits Maeby in the eye.

“Fuck!” She curses, hand darting up.

George Michael winces. “I’m so sorry! Do you want me to get you an ice pack or something?”

Maeby grimaces. She rubs at her eye hard. “I think I’ll be fine.”

It takes a second, though, for her to clock exactly what was thrown at her. “I don’t…” She frowns. “Are you serious? These were your mom’s, I--”

“-- I don’t need them,” George Michael promises. “You do.”

Maeby’s face changes purposefully. “Are you calling me ugly?”

George Michael’s face falls, immediately looking guilty. “Of course not! I’m just saying that--”

“I’m just busting your balls,” Maeby interrupts with a laugh, starting to gather up the makeup. “I know you don’t think I’m ugly, or anything. Thank you. Really.”

 

Maeby keeps the makeup in her bag, unsure of how to go about applying it -- she’s never even really thought about skirts quite yet, much less makeup.

 

At one point, she stumbles past Gob. He does a double take and then places a hand on her chest to keep her from going any further.

“Maeby?” He asks. “What happened to your eye?”

Maeby’s fingers brush against her eye lightly. “Oh, yeah.” She shrugs. “George Michael clocked me with a makeup brush. Is it bad?”

Gob says, “No,” but he’s grimacing. “Do you have any makeup? I can help you cover it up.”

Maeby frowns. “I do, George Michael gave me some. It’s that bad, huh?”

“Not really,” Gob lies through his teeth. “Show me to the makeup. I think I might still know my way around it.”

 

Maeby looks down at her feet. Wiggles her toes. “How long has it been since you’ve used makeup?”

“At least ten years,” Gob admits. “But it’s not super easy to forget. You’ll be fine. Just trust me.”

Maeby’s eyes flutter shut, and she feels the brush against her eyelid.

“Do you want any other makeup? I spent a lot of time wearing it, so if you want, I can…” Gob trails off. Maeby just gives a shrug, cracking open the eye that Gob isn’t working on.

“Do you want to talk about that?” She asks. “I mean, it must have been hard for you. You’re really old.”

“Gee, thanks,” Gob says sarcastically.

“That’s not what I meant,” Maeby says. She shuts her eye again. “I meant, it was way different. It still sucks, even now, so it must have uber-sucked when you were a kid.”

Gob pauses. The brush stops against her eye, and then he puts it down.

“I mean, yeah,” He says. “I’m actually super jealous of you, because you figured it out so young. I was almost twenty when I figured it out, and I didn’t tell my family until I was twenty-two.”

Gob goes back to applying makeup to Maeby’s bruise.

Maeby feels her heart drop to her stomach. “You don’t think I’m faking, right?”

Gob stops again.

“What?”

Maeby forces her eyes open, actively blinking back tears. “Everyone says I'm too young, they all think I'm faking. Even George Michael probably thinks I'm faking. And I haven't told anyone at school, because they all already think I'm a freak, and--” Before she knows it, she's taking panicked breaths in, desperately trying to regulate her breathing.

Gob looks terrified. “Should I get someone?”

“Don't,” Maeby manages to choke out. “I'll-- I'll be fine.”

It takes her a few minutes to calm down. She wipes tears from her eyes.

“Sorry,” She mumbles. Gob frowns.

Maeby’s eyes flutter shut again. “Just… finish up? I don't wanna walk around with a black eye.”

“Uh,” Gob drawls. “Yeah. Yeah. Are you sure you're alright?”

“I'm fine,” Maeby snaps.

Silence settles over them like a blanket. Minutes pass, until Gob asks, “Do you mind if I do a little extra?”

Maeby’s heart kind of soars, but she's _tough,_ damn it, so she just shrugs.

Somehow, Gob knows that means yes.

 

Lindsay fumes, but Maeby is smiling wider than ever for the rest of the day. For once, she feels pretty, and it’s kind of fucking awesome.


End file.
